A Certain Lack of Tact
by Hecate's Wrath
Summary: Scorpius likes chairs that roll, Rose Weasley, and distracting Rose Weasley. But mostly chairs that roll.


Standard disclaimer applies. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was bored.

Bored _out of his bloody mind_, to be exact, and his girlfriend of exactly one year was doing little to abate his boredom. She either was completely oblivious to his plight or completely ignoring him and, all things considered, the latter seemed far more likely, as she was merely flipping through a thick sheaf of parchment, and not hungrily devouring each word as she read it, her eyes fixed intently on the page, and scarcely _blinking_, let alone paying attention to her boyfriend.

Who was about to positively _die_ of boredom if Rose didn't entertain him _right now_.

"Rosie…" he whined petulantly, and Rose's eyes flicked up at him, a perfectly shaped brown eyebrow quirking, and then flicked back down at her parchment. Definitely ignoring him, then.

He sighed and the corners of Rose's mouth lifted into a grin.

"Can I have your chair?" he asked hopefully, as Rose's office chair was black leather, comfy, rolley, _and_ it spun, promising hours of head-spinning, stomach-rolling, vomit-inducing fun.

"No," she replied calmly, turning a page. "I'm using it."

"You can use your _old_ chair," Scorpius insisted, gesticulating wildly at the older model in the corner.

"So can you," his girlfriend retorted, turning another page.

"Rose," Scorpius said, appalled that his girlfriend would suggest such a thing. "The _old_ chair doesn't _spin_."

Rose sighed heavily and settled her papers on her desk. Then she fixed Scorpius with a look he associated with two things: Hermione Weasley and his Grandmother Malfoy, both of whom terrified him. "Scorpius," Rose said, folding her hands together and leaning her elbows on her desk. "Sweetheart, I'm _trying _to _work_. While _some of us_ have nice, cushy jobs that allow us to take time off whenever our little heart desires, the _rest_ of us work under bosses who were slave-drivers in another life and getting time off is like trying to execute a particularly contrary drying spell in the driving rain. Now. If you'll let me just _finish this blasted paperwork in peace_, we'll be able to leave for our holiday in ten minutes."

Scorpius huffed, feeling more than a bit like a naughty child who has just been told off for nicking a biscuit when his mother wasn't looking. It wasn't _his_ fault he was talented enough at the art of journalism to have secured a job as one of the _Prophet_'s three Assistant Editors and, thus, could request time off _essentially _whenever he wanted.

Rose, on the other hand, was working on her Wizengamot Internship, and getting time off—especially to go on a two-week holiday with her boyfriend to celebrate their one-year anniversary, well…

Well, it had been difficult, and Rose had had to employ everything from her status as one of the Golden Trio's children to her status as Scorpius's girlfriend and then some. Even now, her boss, a dour, bitter old woman who was _technically _named Ursula Browning-Glotham, but who Rose preferred to refer to as Arse-ula (not the most creative, but Rose was a magistrate-in-training, not someone valued for their imagination or creativity, unless it involved punishment), continually sent someone to check and make sure Rose wasn't cutting out earlier than the agreed 2:00. When Intern Davies had reported that Scorpius had made an appearance, the vile woman herself came to check.

Rose checked her watch. 1:45. She groaned and rested her head on her arms, only to pop up again three seconds later, forcing a smile as Intern Brandon opened the door to check on her. As soon as the door clicked shut behind the only other female intern, Rose rubbed her face.

"I cannot wait until that bitch retires," Rose moaned. "Seriously. I will buy everyone lunch and throw a party the day she finally realizes she is too old to work."

"I'll hold you to that," Intern Brandon said, sticking her head in with a grin. Rose rolled her eyes. "And Arse-ula is checking every five minutes now, so be on your guard."

Rose nodded her thanks, and the girl shut the door a second time. Scorpius heaved himself up out of his chair and over to where Rose was sitting with her head in her hands. He cracked his knuckles and started kneading her shoulders, working the knots and tension from them.

"I can't wait until she retires, either," Scorpius said, his voice husky and close to her ear. Rose shivered.

"Why?" Rose asked, rolling her neck.

"Because," Scorpius whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "Think of how much magistrates make! I'll be able to quit the _Prophet_ and freelance and my wealthy, beautiful, fabulous, smart, and sexy girlfriend will be able to take care of me."

Rose laughed. "I suppose."

Scorpius chuckled and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

She smiled up at him and at that moment, her boss flung open the door.

"Miss Weasley!" she cried, scandalized, and Rose cringed. Scorpius jumped back from his girlfriend as though he'd been burned. "Fornicating on the job! I'm appalled!"

Rose looked up in protest. "Ms. Browning-Gotham! It was a _back rub_."

"Foreplay!" the old woman screeched and Rose would have opened her mouth to protest again, but she felt rather ill; the sight and sound of someone as old as Browning-Gotham yelling something like 'foreplay' made her feel distinctly sick at her stomach. Before Rose could dwell on the subject much longer, the vile woman went on. "I am scandalized, Miss Weasley, absolutely scandalized! In all my years on the Wizengamot never, _never_ have I seen such a lewd and disgusting display of public affection—from one of my _interns_, nonetheless, when you should be on your _best_ behavior in hopes of securing a job with us—Miss Weasley, I am absolutely disappointed in your behavior. You should be _ashamed _of yourself, absolutely ashamed! Rest assured, I shall be informing your mother of this ridiculous and disgusting encounter and I shall inform her _in excruciating detail_. I've half a mind to Floo Mrs. Malfoy, too, and inform her that her _son_ has been not only distracting an intern of the Wizengamot, but also engaging in lewd and disgusting displays of affection _in public_! I am scandalized!" the woman screeched a final time and, with a pretentious glower at the couple, she swept from the room, slamming the door behind her and rattling the glass.

The couple was silent for a moment, and then Scorpius broke out in raucous laughter. Rose chuckled reluctantly and checked her watch. She still had another five minutes here.

"Did you—did you see her _face_?" the blonde man wheezed through his laughter.

Rose rolled her eyes.

"And then—and then… she…foreplay!" he mimicked, drawing himself up straight and glaring imperiously down at Rose before breaking off in another fit of laughter. Rose sighed, grinning despite herself.

"Yes, well. Amusing as you find this, my future job is at stake."

"Oh, pfft," Scorpius said, rolling his eyes. "_As if_ the rest of the Wizengamot would allow a gem like you to slip away."

Rose sighed and shifted several stacks of paper on her desk.

"Rose," Scorpius said, seating himself on her desk and thus in her direct line of sight. "You're _Ron and Hermione Weasley's daughter_. You're going to have incredible power in the Wizengamot. They're going to _beg _you to join them. 'Lewd and disgusting displays of affection' or no."

Rose eyed him skeptically. "You think so?"

Scorpius grinned. "Oh, I have no doubt."

Rose sighed and checked her watch. "Alright then, if you say so. I'm not going to worry about it; I'm officially on holiday and we're free to go. I've got to run to the loo and then we'll head out, alright?"

Scorpius nodded dutifully as Rose left the office. He glanced around as soon as the door clicked shut behind her and, finding the office to be empty of all other life forms, made a beeline for the chair with a gleeful shout.

* * *


End file.
